


The Art of Totally Subtle Courtship

by suikalopolis



Series: Next stop, Paddington Station [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Crack Relationships, First Meetings, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Oneshot, Reunions, Romance, Sushi, aka that fic where, and then we have that danish freak, gerita is so a thing, how to use post-its by denmark, japan goes all woe is me, very brief mention of usuk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suikalopolis/pseuds/suikalopolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just one of those unconventional days where you’re eating sushi at Paddington Station and then you become acquainted to this ‘high tension’ stranger because he decides to buy the entire conveyor belt just for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Totally Subtle Courtship

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. So this happened. 
> 
> Because Denpan is a pair that doesn't occur often and I like to experiment. Also, Germany and Italy make their appearance because the Axis trio are full of love. I had planned to post this like, a year go since I've been writing it alongside when I had been doing my final year dissertation back in England but pshaw life happened.
> 
> So here's to a little quirkiness that we all should experience in life.

The first time Kiku meets him was at a sushi bar in Paddington Station.

In all honesty, it isn’t often that often he goes on social outings.  He isn’t a recluse nor was he overly reserved.  It was just that he simply prioritises certain things more than others and being a tabloid news reporter, it was clearly work which takes up most of his time.  Informal meetings with people who weren’t involved in his line of work were a rarity nowadays so when he meets a pair of familiar faces on the District Line of the Underground one evening, they had, in a pang of excitement, forcefully dragged him off the train at Paddington at the promise of drinks and dinner.

Which is why he was now seated at a sushi bar smack in the middle of station, his eyes shifting around him in discomfort because he isn’t used to the fact that he is actually _staying put_ to eat something as fancy as _sushi_.

A hand clasps his shoulder in familiarity and Kiku tries his best to not shy away from the sudden contact.

“Wow! I can’t believe it’s been _years_ , Kiku!” Feliciano exclaims from his left, eyes bright with delight and still looking giddy from their unexpected reunion. 

Kiku smiles sheepishly and notices that in the years since they haven’t seen each other, his friend looks different now.  The boyish quality that his friendly face used to carry was no longer apparent.  Instead, in its place, a handsome confident look.  Kiku thinks it’s somehow like wine, how he’s aged to look better.

“It has,” he goes on to admit sheepishly and his shoulders hunch up a little in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I haven’t put in enough effort to keep in touch.”  It is inexcusable on his part now that he thinks about it, especially towards his two friends who had been with him through thick and thin in the university days.

Feliciano looks rather surprised at his words and when Kiku fidgets a little in discomfort from his astonished stare, the man’s face breaks out into that familiar, heart-warming grin he recognises from all those years ago. “What are you saying? It’s us that should be sorry, silly,” he says empathetically with a small laugh.  The words sounded flippantly delivered but Kiku knows him enough to know that the other was sincere.

“But–” he starts.

“He’s right,” a second voice – Ludwig – interjects from his right.  Kiku also notices that he too looks a little mature from the last time he’s seen him.  He’s only a year younger than Kiku and yet there are already a few signs of crow lines growing at the corners of his blue eyes. “I read your articles everyday and yet I hadn’t bothered to contact you. Sorry,” he says regrettably.  He looks incredibly embarrassed and Kiku can’t stop the small empathetic smile which rises on his lips.

“But I’m so glad we’ve managed to meet! What a stroke of luck!” Feliciano continues.  He’s already started picking out the sushi he wants to eat. “A pub would’ve been great to sit down but I don’t think there’s one in the station.  There’s a Starbucks upstairs but that place is always way too crowded.”

“I don’t think anyone of us would like to have coffee this evening,” Ludwig adds with a sage-like nod. “It’s the weekend after all.”  He pauses at this and seems to recall Kiku, who has taken the liberty to surmise the selection of sushi circulating on the conveyer belt. “Oh, we aren’t disrupting your schedule, are we?” he asks pensively.

“Oh, no,” Kiku quickly says, raising a hand and waving it in emphasis.  He picks up a plate of inari sushi in the small hope that it was decently made and tries not to think of the piles of disorganized notes he left on the coffee table in his modest apartment. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve got the weekend off and Monday as well since it’s bank holiday and all.”

Ludwig doesn’t look convinced at this (he’s still sharp, as expected) but before he could say anything, Feliciano makes a happy sound around a sushi he had popped into his mouth and wordlessly waves them to enjoy.  Kiku nods his thanks and after a small prayer, picks up his chopsticks and bites into his sushi.

It’s a little too sweet.

He grimaces.

“Oh?”

Kiku glances up at the sound of Feliciano’s soft exclamation of surprise and it was then he sees it.  An orange-coloured post-it.  Bright and imposing, it was carelessly slapped on a clear dome of one of the plates. 

Kiku watches it in silence as the plate rolls past the three of them at its leisurely pace.  He catches a string of incoherent writing scrawled across the paper but before he could decipher it, the train turns around a corner and disappears from his line of sight.

“A note from the shop?” Ludwig suggests and Kiku shrugs.  Feliciano hums thoughtfully.  Kiku decides to think nothing of it, assuming that it was probably just an oversight by the chef, and goes on to wonder if he should dip his sushi in soy sauce to alleviate its sweetness.

He decides not to and carries on eating.

After a while, the three of them easily fall into an amiable conversation about their lives, updating each other with the standard where-have-yous, when-have-yous and what-have-yous.  The conversation does however take an interesting turn when Feliciano reveals, in a rather blasé manner, that he and Ludwig are thinking of entering a civil partnership.

“Marriage isn’t really happening here yet so it’s the next best thing,” he says around the tamagoyaki he’s currently eating.  Kiku is further astounded when Ludwig coolly nods in agreement.

“You’re the first we’ve disclosed this actually,” Ludwig tells in a murmur, ears turning a little pink.

The unexpected admission warms Kiku’s heart and with a lowered head, he can’t help but offer them his heartiest congratulations and wishes them all the best.  It’s remarkable to see them come to this stage, he thinks.  Because for as long as he’s known them, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a relationship as earnest as theirs.

It was envious.

“What about you, Kiku?” Feliciano then asks, bright eyes looking straight at him. “Are you thinking of settling down?”

“Oh. Um.” The question throws him off a little and he tries to not blush under their curious gazes. “I haven’t really thought of it.”

He has actually.  Many times.

Hiding his awkwardness, he takes a sip of one of the beers which Ludwig has kindly ordered for all of them and hopes they don’t pursue the matter in greater depth.  It isn’t a topic he likes divulging in.  It’s not as if he doesn’t actively seek a wholesome relationship.  He does.  It’s just the matter of taking that one leap of faith.  He’s never been able to muster the courage to do so after all this time and it’s humiliating.

“Why! I’m sure you’ll…” Feliciano suddenly tails off into a curious silence and like before, it causes Kiku to lower his beer and follow his friend’s gaze.

“Ah.” This time it’s Kiku who exclaims in surprise because he sees _another_ post-it which has been stuck on the side of a dome, right next to the one before.  However, unlike before, Kiku can now read the sharp strokes of the writing on it.

_This one’s on me.  Trust me, it’s not half-bad, babe._

The post-it was attached to a plate of California roll.

Kiku stares at the plate in bewilderment – _not half bad?  How could you call California roll a sushi?_ – and just as he was about to turn a blind eye and shift his attention back to his own plate, a hand reaches out from beside him.  The California roll was picked off the conveyer and it was placed in front of him.

“Feli,” came Ludwig’s quiet admonition.

“What?” shrugs Feliciano, not looking sorry at all. “It’s obviously for Kiku right? I don’t see anyone else eating here except us.”

“It’s obviously? You don’t just pick things up like that,” says Ludwig exasperatedly.

“But it’s a treat, right?”

“Really.”

“Um,” begins Kiku and his fingers trace the length of his chopsticks.  He casts them a sideways look, a small apologetic smile on his lips. “I don’t –”

“Oh, there’s another one!” pipes Feliciano, eyes brightening in excitement.

“What?”

Sure enough, there is another post-it heading their way.  This time it’s bright red in colour and Kiku finds himself looking intently at it, both in curiosity and dread.

 _Your friend’s right,_ it reads. _Treat’s on me, cutiepie._

Cutiepie?

Kiku’s stomach lurches unpleasantly.  Oh dear, he isn’t sure how to react to this.

“Aren’t you going to eat it?” Feliciano asks innocuously, his hand already moving without Kiku’s consent as he picks up the plate and places it in front of Kiku.  Salmon and yuzu salsa sashimi.

“I…I think there’s a little too…” Kiku hesitates, casting a weary look across the items before him.  In all honesty, he doesn’t think these are for him.  And even if they were, why would someone leave these around for him to eat without _introducing_ themselves first?  Somehow this odd scenario feels too much like a scene from a romantic film.  It was just so unbearably cheesy for real life that it has to be a joke, right?  It just has to be.  Because surely nobody in this world would be so odd so as to initiate a first meeting by using _post-its_.

He moves his arm but freezes when Feliciano picks up yet _another_ plate of sushi and wordlessly puts it amongst the previous ones.  Soft shell crab tempura.

 _‘kiss kiss x’_ and a giant heart was drawn on the post-it.

“Oh, this is really exciting,” Feliciano comments with a gleeful look.  He is getting carried away by this strange occurrence and Kiku purses his lips into a taut line.  He wants to interrupt him and tell him ‘you shouldn’t really play along with this nonsense’ but the hearty clap on his shoulder by his friend cuts his thoughts short and he casts an imploring look to Ludwig instead, hoping the other man would discourage his partner.

When their eyes meet, Ludwig gives a small shrug and looks equally lost, his forehead creasing in worried lines.  It seems even he is unable to comprehend the situation and this makes Kiku feel all the more unsettled.

Given his line of work, unanswered questions – _who is where is why is I don’t understand why are you sending me post-its just who are you I want to see you I want to know the face behind these silly little messages are you shy or are you just taking the mick or is this an experiment who are you who are you just who are you_ –have a tendency to gnaw on his thoughts and it drives him _mad._ He wants to stand up and look around the corner.  He wants to stand, apologise to Feliciano and Ludwig and then leave, never to return to this place again.  He wants to sit and sit and just wait.

He wants to –

A flash of orange, red and green. 

Kiku turns his head and startles when he catches sight of something _ridiculous_ unfolding before him.  Because in the time Kiku had been spacing out with his thoughts, the plates which were now heading his way on the conveyer _all_ have post-its plastered on their domes.  Each and every one of them.

Good god.

It became apparent to Kiku.  Clearly, ‘propriety’ was not a word which exists in this mysterious person’s dictionary because if this keeps up for much longer, the train of brightly coloured post-its heading his way would never end.

“Oh my,” Feliciano gasps, sounding incredibly amused.                                                                                   

“Oh god,” huffs Ludwig, not so much.

And Kiku’s features are set in confusion as he tries to understand this, tries to understand the reasoning behind this silliness but he can’t sum anything up.  The post-its are distracting him and he can’t help but glance between them, catching the single words which had been written on each and every one of them.  His mind quickly works out a sentence and upon piecing it together, he almost balks.

_All on me_ _min søde_ _say I’m hella mighty interested in your sweet looks babe so how about we get to know each other over a beer? xx_

“What?” breathes Kiku in disbelief.

He doesn’t understand. 

He _cannot_ understand.

Just why would someone go to such lengths to buy _all_ the plates on the conveyer belt for him? 

Was this person mad?  Was he really _that_ into him?  Who what when where why how–?

“Kiku,” Ludwig’s voice rings out to him and for the third time that night, he is drawn out from his spiralling thoughts.  He lifts his chin and sees that the conveyer isn’t moving.  That it’s actually _stopped._ It’s stopped in way that all the plates with the post-its are lined up and stretched out before him like an inviting buffet that’s ready for serving.

What, was it closing time already?

And then, as if answering his unvoiced question, the sushi chef (whom Kiku had actually forgotten was working behind the counter) suddenly turns around and faces them.

“Hey! Sushi on the house, eh?” the chef says, greeting them amiably.  His voice is loud and gruff – almost as if from too much use - though there is a certain lightness in his strange accent which suits the merriness that dances in his face.  Initially, Kiku had been expecting an older person but he is surprised to find a young Caucasian man beaming down at them from his towering height as he wipes his hands in a towel. 

“So! I kinda realised that I gave you lot a crazy mad amount to eat so I decided that I’m gonna join ya with some beer,” he then goes on to say without missing a beat – and all in one breath, Kiku realises to his amazement – and he reaches into a refrigerator to pull out a few bottles with one hand. “Ya can call this a first date if ya like. So scooch over man ‘cos I can take it from here on, buff boy.” 

He boldly places the bottles amongst Kiku’s growing pile of food as Feliciano and Ludwig exchange looks of confusion.  Puzzled himself, Kiku turns his head a little, thinking that there obviously must be some sort of –

Something intrudes in his personal space.

Kiku glances up and he’s staring into a pair of deep blue eyes.  He’s almost breathless from the sight because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that sort of blueness in an eye colour.  It reminds him of the sea.

“H-Hey, what are you–!” Ludwig’s voice, oddly panicky, pierces the air.

Kiku pulls his head back a little, suddenly reminded of the proximity.  He sees a wicked grin stretch across the chef’s mouth and before a thought crosses his mind, Kiku watches in terror as the man suddenly _leaps_ over the bar, the belt creaking terribly under his weight.  Gasping, his jaw drops open when the man turns his body and clumsily slams himself across Ludwig.

“Oops!”

“Jes – _Christ_ , what the – _oof_!”

Ludwig has to grab hold of the counter to regain his balance and he does his best to not topple out of his seat whilst holding onto the man.  “What the _hell_ are you _doing_?” hisses Ludwig furiously.  His face is red with both embarrassment and anger.

The man rights himself to his feet, looking nonchalant.  “Bridging. I gave you the heads up to scooch, remember?” he deadpans before he wordlessly wipes his hands across Ludwig’s dress shirt in a cavalier manner.

Ludwig’s jaw drops open in disbelief.  He opens his mouth to say something – _oh my he isn’t going to shout is he?_ Kiku thinks in a panic – but closes it fairly quickly, clearly deciding against it.  He stands to his feet and, to Kiku’s disbelief, shuffles to Feliciano’s side.

“Oh, no, Ludwig –” Kiku starts, feeling somewhat responsible and terrible but his friend shakes his head and stubbornly sits by his partner.

“’Atta boy.” Just as quickly as he had heedlessly leapt across the bar, the chef suddenly turns to Kiku and plops himself comfortably onto Ludwig’s relinquished seat.  He picks up a beer.  “You don’t mind if I start, right?  It’s been a fucking long day, ya know,” he continues in a voice which moves to its own odd beat. 

“Um.”

The chef reaches up and pulls his cap off.  A mass of unruly blond spikes suddenly springs from his head and good heavens, Kiku has never seen hair as wild and unkempt as his before.  He looks at it distractedly and suddenly develops an urge to _touch_ it.

“See something you fancy?”

“Eh?” Kiku blinks and sees the chef looking down at him with an amused little smile.  Instantly the back of his neck and the tips of his ears burn in embarrassment and he flusters, fumbling over words.  “I – no – I don’t think – well, that’s –”

“Cheers!” the chef suddenly says and there is a pop and a fizzle and a bottle of beer is held out in front of him.  It was tilted coaxingly.  Kiku glances in between the man’s face and the bottle warily.  Admittedly, he is frazzled by how _quick_ this man’s pace is but he doesn’t seem to grasp the reason as to _why_ this is so.  _Is it his own nature to jump between topics?  Or is it because he doesn’t want me to find excuses to leave?_

Hesitantly, he picks up his own beer and they clink their bottles together.

“Cheers,” mumbles Kiku uncertainly, watching the man sigh happily after a long swig.

“Nothing beats a chilled beer after work,” hums the man in satisfaction.

“What, you’re done?” Feliciano suddenly pipes up in surprise. He’s apparently already helping himself to one of the sushi on the conveyer belt, Kiku notes in dismay.

“Huh. How can you be done?” Ludwig scoffs, still disgruntled.

The man merely shrugs, looking frighteningly unbothered by his autonomous act.

“I’m sorry but who are you?” Kiku blurts out unexpectedly.  It’s the very question which has been plaguing his mind all throughout his meal and when it resurfaces, the words just fall from his mouth without a second thought.  So when he feels those blue eyes turn their attention back to him, he is surprised to see the man looking uncannily pleased for some reason.  Like he’s been waiting all night for Kiku to ask him that very question.

“Erik,” the man answers with a crooked little grin. “Full time chef here at this here establishment.”

“I…I see.”

“And you must be available.”

Kiku eyes widened in alarm. “Pardon?”

“I’ve seen you around here sometimes.  You usually stop over at the bookstore over there to pick up a few energy drinks or something but ya never seem to stop by for sushi. I thought your kind eats this shit, no?” Erik comments casually.  It sounds awfully insular but for some reason, Kiku doesn’t think it to be the case.  Something tells him that this is how he actually talks to people.

“I do like sushi,” Kiku finds himself reply obligingly with a hint of defensiveness to his tone. “I just don’t have time.”

Erik tilts his head to the side a little and he regards Kiku for a moment, looking as if he was weighing his words. For a moment, Kiku foolishly thinks that he’s going to rebut him but what comes after surprises him as Erik reaches over and picks up a slice of salmon from one of his plates with his fingers.

“How ‘bout I make the time for you, eh?” he says rather than asks as he eats the fish.  It’s said deceptively casually but the uncanny steeliness in his blue eyes makes Kiku falter for a moment and in one, two, three seconds another rush of warmth reaches the tips of his ears.

He’s at a loss for words because _who does he think he is, sprouting all these ridiculous things to me so suddenly?_

“I’ll even throw in some sushi on the side too,” adds Erik enticingly. “I make hella good ones, ya know. So how about it? Let’s ditch this joint and do something. It doesn’t necessarily need to be sushi. We could go for that giant smoky thing down at Edgware if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Hey, you can’t just –” Ludwig thankfully attempts to swoop in to interrupt but he’s unexpectedly cut off by the fervent wave of Feliciano’s hand.

“No, no, you can’t just butt in, you dummy. It’s the start of a _something_!” Kiku hears Feliciano hiss in a comical stage whisper.

“What are you –”

“Shh, shh. Let it take its course.”

“What _course_?”

“ _Shh_!”

“What – don’t shh me–!”

They squabble in hushed voices after that, all of which Kiku zones out because he can’t look away from those steely blue eyes, that unwavering grin, that _impossible_ hair.  “You’re unbelievable,” he breathes.  He feels drained all of the sudden.

“Really?” Erik sounds genuinely surprised and again, Kiku feels like he’s been thrown off course from whatever they were talking about.  Not that he was certain if there was an actual topic.  He can’t even remember if their interaction even had a linear form.  _High tension,_ Kiku thinks in bewilderment as he recalls back the Japanese loan word.  _This man is absolutely high tension.  An absolute ‘my way’ sort of person._

“What do you mean ‘really’?”

“Really. Like, ya know, wow?  Like, actual really. See, usually folks call me a fucking cockface like this one time when this one grumpy looking bloke brought this well fit American with him and I told them to seriously get a room upstairs and shit because they’ve got serious fucking tension between them like they seriously need to shag but yeah, ‘unbelievable’ sounds good.  It’s a new one, that is. And oh, hang on. There’s that.”

Erik suddenly swoops in and he plants an unexpected kiss to Kiku’s lips.  There’s a faint tanginess of zesty salmon there and somewhere to the side, an ungainly squawk and a scandalised gasp is heard. 

“What was that for?” is all Kiku asks in a whisper when they both draw back.

Erik simply answers, “Because you look like you needed a lil push before you get to that leaping. So what d’ya say, eh? Donner kebabs on me?”  His eyes are bright and dancing with mirth.

Unbelievable.  Absolutely unbelievable.

“You’re mad.”

“Only for you.”

Kiku almost smiles.  With a small sigh, he fishes out his business card holder and procures one card, handing it to a smiling Erik with both hands. “Honda. Kiku Honda,” he tells the man as coolly as possible whilst under the scrutiny of one delighted Feliciano (who’s smacking the shoulder of one exasperated Ludwig). “And I might just be available for you this weekend.”

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of notes!
> 
> (1) "...he isn't used to the fact that he is actually staying put to eat something as fancy as sushi" - Kiku lives and breathes work so he often doesn't have time to sit and enjoy food as much as he should (poor bby). Also, I've heard that sushi is a luxurious cuisine that is often ridiculously expensive so normal folk in Japan don't normally sit down to eat this frivolously. You need the right time, occasion and company I suppose.
> 
> (2) "...he and Ludwig are thinking of entering a civil partnership" - In England, it's sort of a way of being legally registered and recognised as being in relationship, sort of like being married but not, and it's available to both hetero and homosexual couples in certain jurisdictions.
> 
> (3) "-not half bad? How could you call California roll a sushi?" - Just as the name suggests, it's a sushi that's invented in the US. So to Kiku (being Japanese), sushi with crabstick and what have you is probably the weirdest thing he's ever set his eyes on. Because even though crabsticks or 'kanikama' were invented in Japan, it's not so commonly used.
> 
> (4) "We could go for that giant smoky thing down at Edgware" - Erik's talking about a 'shisha' or a 'hookah' (waterpipe) and there's like a lot of those down Edgware Road in London.
> 
> (5) "This man is absolutely high tension" - Or 'hai tenshon'. It's a Japanese-made phrase with a positive connotations. Roughly translates to a feeling of elation or excitement. So here it means Erik is so full of beans that KIku can't keep up with him. Stating that he's an absolutely 'my way' sort of guy just means that Erik gets carried away that you can't help but be dragged into whatever he was talking about.


End file.
